


here we aren't

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a tragedy, more or less. A lot of shapes that don't quite make sense.</p>
<p>Here they are again, with so much history already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here we aren't

She dreams —

It's her Lancer, but she's looking at his back. He wears no armor, only plain linen trousers and stands before a grand chariot. She thinks, this must be Karna's dream. His back is much smaller, bare and without the trailing red and gold she's used to. She can see a map of scars, bruises, new and old wounds — of course, he's a warrior, a hero. 

And, of course, this is a battlefield.

Karna turns his face a little, she can just see the curve of his cheek, the corner of his eye and the way the sun falls across his lips. Is he saying something? Or is it just an all-knowing smile? She can't tell and something about the situation strikes her as funny and sad and

Something boils over deep inside her. (She knows, in this dream, that it was there all along.)

She can't wake up in time. 

She's so happy she could cry.

The arrow flies true. And the next. And the next.

— she wakes. Her chest is burning, and the seals on the back of her hand itch like an old scab. She wishes she could sever the bonds and rip them from her skin. (No, she doesn't.)

It's black outside and even though it's dark many days out of the year because of the snow and the mountains she has the unshakable feeling that it's dark because Arjuna treacherously shot down the sun.

 

 

It's a cautionary tale. The hero who thought he was infallible, who stood a shoulder above the rest, who carried the expectations of goodness with him wherever he went. Heroic flaw? Pride, or maybe temper. Perhaps, even, ignorance.

In the end, it's a tragedy. 

Arjuna knows, when he sees his Master's face the next morning that she's seen it. The bond between them is stronger than ever, her presence creeping at the corners of his mind like a wraith. She wants to reach out to him, but he brushes her off. Arjuna excuses himself, assures her that nothing is wrong. She wears an expression like his brother — one that sees through lies — and he hates it.

Once alone, he laughs. It's temporary solitude, he knows. It's never enough, but at least it's a respite. A place where he can bury his mirth. He covers his face with his hands and laughs. Arjuna laughs for so long his stomach twists and it feels like his blood is curdling. He makes himself sick. He laughs until he heaves and his voice has cracked and broken into a dry sob.

It's a memory that never leaves him, like a soft black spot on his heart. The most satisfying memory, the one where it felt like the pieces of his life had finally come together.

He's so happy, he could cry.

— it had only been after that they told him, that was your brother. In the end, the story ends in tragedy because he had been so dishonorable. Because his heart beat a little faster, when Karna's blood was on his hands.

 

 

He accepts all things. His new Master, his new role, the little brother who killed him standing at his back. It's an exhilaration that he never thought he would feel again. He had been haunted before, by the shadow of a brother who had seemed so much younger and so much more sure of his decisions, in his memory. (It's a tragedy, because the Arjuna he sees now is worn, both young and old, carries knowledge he shouldn't have.)

In a way, it's a tragedy because he accepts Arjuna's threat and gladly would welcome his brother on the battlefield (again). Words can't convey meaning in the same way as actions, it's easier to communicate with combat. Karna is sure that if they crossed blades again that Arjuna would understand.

Karna never hated him, blamed him or held spite against him.

He doesn't follow Arjuna out of curiosity but an elder brother's duty that neither of them will ever acknowledge. He stands outside, out of reach and sight, and listens to Arjuna's hysterics. Karna also accepts this.

A dark spot on the sun; the first time Arjuna killed him, he didn't know they were brothers. And, Karna had seen the machinations of fate at work, as well. Even if Arjuna chose that himself, it was undeniably also someone else's work. (Arjuna would not have accepted that, either.)

Karna listens — Arjuna laughs, cries, retches. Karna is sure that if Arjuna was not a hero, was not the bright-eyed and kind-hearted little brother Karna thinks of him as, that tears wouldn't be shed.

(But Karna also can't help but to accept, that he's crying because he's so happy.)

 

 

She confronts him. It frightens her a little, because she's simply a human with some menial magic — if it were a true Grail War she would not even be able to summon a Servant, however. The Command Seals on her hand are more proof of contract than they are a binding symbol, but she stands before him as proud as she can be.

She tries to meet him as he would her, unflinching. (Every one of her Servants impart her some of their strength — from Mashu, protection, from Cu Chulainn, nimbleness, from Arjuna — )

"Arjuna."

He meets her gaze and then sweeps forward in a formal bow. When he raises his head she can't see his eyes, only the curve of his mouth, his shoulders cloaked in white. She has to imagine his expression. It's shadowed, to her.

"It's very sorrowful, you should avert your eyes." He says.

(She remembers, faintly, a parent or mentor, maybe a teacher, ruffling her hair and saying, good job. She remembers being heartened by other people's belief in her goodness but also being pulled down by it. She wishes she was stronger.)

"I won't."

"It would be better if you did."

"I won't." She says again.

She imagines his jaw has tightened, his lips thinned, his eyes have softened.

"I was scared," she admits. The feeling of black boiling joy had frightened her. She didn't like it. 

"This isn't safe territory for you." He doesn't threaten her, but it is a warning. "Unsightly things are best left alone, Master."

"You must have been, too." His head snaps up and she can see one wild look on his face. An Arjuna she has only begun to understand — too dispassionate, too willing to be cruel and far too unhappy. But that face is gone, quickly and she understands the wry smile that just barely sits on his lips.

"There is no fear here."

"I love him too." She says. (She loves them all.)

"Wasted words, my Master." Arjuna replies, brittle. "Our destiny remains unchanged, even if we have a temporary alliance."

(Again, she feels cold. He must also feel the chill.)

"I said, I love him _too_." She includes him in her reiteration, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He recoils a second too late. She doesn't need to dream of being Karna to read in Arjuna's posture the expression of a little brother.

 

Arjuna follows Karna, not out of obligation but personal curiosity. A feeling builds in the bottom of his heart. It's so distant, he could almost ignore it.

"Arjuna," surprisingly, Karna addresses him first.

Arjuna doesn't answer him, but steps towards him. He holds his hand out and over Karna's chest, where his heart is. They're not in synchronization at all. Karna's heartbeat is slow and ponderous, irritatingly placid just as his face is unreadable. Arjuna's hammers in his veins, behind his eyes and loud in his ears like the rush of blood. His fingers brush the gems on Karna's chest, the gold chains, skin and clothes. Balances his palm against the point of one of the needle tipped spikes that ring Karna's neck.

"Here we are again." Arjuna says.

"Here we are for the first time." Karna corrects.

"It should be me offering my throat to you, in retribution," Arjuna begins. He presses down with his hand, the spike pierces the fabric of his glove, his skin, into the flesh of his hand. "But that isn't my position in this story."

Karna accepts this, too.

"This isn't a battlefield," not an admonishment. Arjuna's blood runs down his wrist and down Karna's chest. Arjuna's fingers around Karna's neck, pulling him closer by the throat. "There's nothing to be won, here."

(But Karna is always accepting.)

"Do you know how thrilling it is?" Arjuna asks, his teeth grazing Karna's ear in a whisper. His gaze is fixed in some far away place, even with the smell of blood between them and the red on Karna's chest is too familiar. They have the same blood, after all.

"Another blessing you carry." Karna, for once, doesn't see the same truth Arjuna does.

It should have ended with that, Arjuna letting go and murmuring an apology for disgraceful behavior yet again. Instead — Arjuna leans closer, almost intimately, lets his full weight push down his arm and push down on Karna's neck.

"Here we are again," he repeats.

"We're here together." Karna corrects, one more time.

 

She dreams.

It's her Archer, dressed in white but so covered in blood that he may as well be dressed in it. In his left hand is his bow and in his right, a brilliantly red stone. She can't see all of his face, just his cheeks — wet — and the curve of his lips.

She's sure that he's laughing. She's sure that he's crying.

(She accepts this, too.)


End file.
